An Action is Worth a Thousand Words
by missmandymalfoy
Summary: A Boggart speaks volumes about a person. They show the hidden feelings that are blocked from the rest of the world. The class is eager to see Draco Malfoy meet his Boggart, that is, until they finally see it. The silent are always the most deadly. Warnings: Child Abuse, Rating changed to M
1. Chapter 1

**I have always wondered what Draco Malfoy's boggart was, so I decided to put my thoughts to words.**

**Side note: I created the character Professor Letterman, I didn't want to use an actual J.K. Rowling character for the part**

**Warnings: **The reason for Draco's Boggart is child abuse, so if you can't handle it, don't read.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter

**An Action is Worth a Thousand Words**

The clock was ticking on the old stone wall, and the hour hand nearly read that it was time to go. However, that was not the only sound in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Robes rustled as students nervously shifted their weight from foot to foot, hearts beat faster as each student drew closer to the old ornate wardrobe that stood hauntingly before them.

The wardrobe shook again, causing the student before it, Luna, to suck in a sharp breath. She nodded to Professor Letterman, who raised his wand and with a single flick, unlocked the door with a faint click.

Hermione watched with a curious eye from the back of the classroom. Her Gryffindor courage was failing her on this particular day, and she was thrilled that she wouldn't get a chance to meet her boggart formally. Now, she learned something new about each student that faced their fear, things that went unnoticed until one looked past the surface and decided that they wanted to understand the complex works of a person's mind.

And now, Luna stood before the class, wand at the ready and face set in her usual vacant expression. As the old wardrobe creaked open, agonizingly slow, a man with a similar facial structure to her own stepped out. Xenophilius Lovegood walked out, his face holding sadness and incredible age.

"Luna, I'm sorry to have to inform you that there has been an accident-" Luna didn't let the man finish his sentence. She calmly lifted her wand.

"Ridikulus!" his clothing was replaced by that of a clown's, getting a rumble of laughter from the class at the ridiculous image before from. The boggart once again retreated back into the wardrobe, it seemed to enjoy coming back into the classroom again as a different form in a flourish.

Luna was afraid of a memory; from what Hermione put together, it was of her father informing her of her mother's death.

A sudden hush filled the room at the sight of who stood next in line. No one could deny the burning curiosity of what form Draco Malfoy's boggart would take. Hermione sat forward in her chair, a million options running through her head. It could be a dementor, a werewolf, there had been plenty of those today, Lord Voldomort, or even a hippogriff. She stole a look a Harry, who sat next to her. His eyes were calculating; he was probably going to use this as black mail against the blonde.

The Professor gestured Draco to step forward. His wand was hanging by his side in his hand. Hermione knew that he heard the whispers rushing through the class, which had gathered a little closer to get a good view of the scene about to unfold. She could see his face as he walked up to stand before the wardrobe. His eyes were on the floor, and they flickered whenever a new suggestion of his boggart came up and there would be a muffled laugh. Something odd was on his face, and it resembled dread. That was the look that told her he knew what was coming, and it wasn't going to be good. Hermione felt sick knowing that people were betting off of his worst fear, and were only going to rub it in his face later. Even though she didn't hold a particular liking for the Malfoy, it was not right to hold something like this against him.

"Class, quiet down," Letterman held his hands up to pacify the growing noise. When his goal was reached, he held up his wand and unlocked the wardrobe. Breaths were held in anticipation and Draco finally looked up just as the door swung open.

Boots that Hermione could see her reflection in stepped onto floor. Icy grey eyes narrowed done and focused on Draco immediately, a look of loathing evident on his face. The unmistakable serpent head cane was held graciously in a leather gloved hand. Dark robes swept around the regal figure of Lucius Malfoy.

A gasp went through the crowd as the imposing man stood proud before the class. However, unlike Xenophilius, he did not look as if he were bearing bad news.

He looked as if he were going to bring it.

Hermione saw Draco's body go rigid as his father walked towards him, holding his stare the entire time. Draco's breathing quickened, his wand still clenched at his side but forgotten. Lucius leisurely walked until he stopped in front of his only offspring.

The tension in the room was suffocating. Hermione held her breath, waiting to see what would happen to make Draco fear his father in such a way. She got her answer sooner than she expected. The elder's hand drew back so quickly it was a blur, and before the Professor could utter a word, Lucius Malfoy's hand connected with his son's face.

The single slap reverberated in the silent room like a gun-shot. That moment of impact between father and son had much more power than what first met the eye. In that slap, a heart was broken; a tear was shed; pride was snapped; humiliation burned, red like the handprint it left on the youth's face.

His father, this man that Draco couldn't relate to, barely gifted him with a look of disgust. Disappointment marred Lucius Malfoy's face like blood on a corpse, evident and deadly.

The bell rang, marking the end of class, but that didn't seem nearly as loud as the single tear that traced down the boy's face and dropped onto the floor before the classes' eyes.

**No words need be spoken in a situation such as this.**

**Review**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: Harry and the gang are in their **sixth year**. **Draco is not a Death Eater and has not been given the task to kill Dumbledore**. This will just help with my story (I find it hard to develop a **Dramione** romance with third years!) I hope you don't mind the change!

Warnings: Verbal abuse, implied sexual, and physical

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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An Action is Worth a Thousand Words

_Shock_.

It's like fear. It can be harnessed like a horse and take the rider through a journey of manipulation.

The single tear hit the floor and sounded like a gunshot in the completely silent room. Hermione's gut twisted in her stomach painfully.

She knew that she wasn't the only one who was struggling to breathe. No one had expected, nor dreamed, that level of emotion ever capable of escaping the Slytherin Prince. It was a surprise that no one had wanted to see and know about.

Professor Letterman was unsure of what to do; he had never faced this sort of dilemma before. The boggart, in the form of Lucius Malfoy, still loomed over his student, staring down at him with sheer distaste. If shock were a stallion, Letterman was tied down to the saddle of this steed. Despite the racing of the stallion beneath him, he couldn't move. It was like he was in a paralytic state.

The silence was shattered by Lucius's light voice cutting through the air. "You are such a disappointment. Your mother knew that from the start you would be no use, a shame, but I decided to give you a chance," Draco's eyes squeezed shut. His feet refused to carry him away, his arm refused to lift his wand, his mouth refused to mutter the simple spell; he could only close his eyes and try to staunch the flow of tears. "But how do you repay me? By shaming me further. You don't deserve the Malfoy name. It's too precious for you, you're a _failure_," his voice remained level as his lips curled into a sneer.

Each word cut through Draco like a knife. Not only did each word hit with the betrayal of coming from his own father, but he could hear the classes' murmurs behind him. His hands fidgeted nervously in front of him. It was a nervous habit that he had picked up at a young age, and one that Lucius greatly frowned upon.

Hermione switched her pained eyes to look at the subject of the whispers. Every time a new voice spoke in a hushed tone, he flinched. Hermione understood why, he was being humiliated in front of his entire class. She looked up at his eyes, which were clouded with an emotion Hermione couldn't name. Hermione thought he was staring into space before she focused on his line of sight. Draco was fixed on the menacing whip looped around Lucius's belt. His bottom lip trembled as he took a step back. Lucius stepped forward, resembling a sadistic waltz.

"Oh god, you don't think…" Harry trailed off into a whisper and he shifted his weight uncomfortably by her side. Hermione nodded numbly, her eyes moving around the classroom until they rested on Pansy Parkinson. The Slytherin's face was one of despair. Hermione's stomach dropped; she had a feeling this encounter was about to get much worse.

Lucius continued, "I soon came to realize what you're mother had realized from the beginning….I didn't want you either,"

Why wasn't the teacher doing anything? He couldn't let this happen! Hermione made a sound in the back of her throat when she noticed Letterman standing on the sidelines, looking obnoxiously unsurprised.

"I would say that you are no use, and good for nothing, but that isn't always true, is it, Draco?" Pansy's face contorted to one of complete horror, and she exchanged looks with Blaise Zabini. Hermione realized too late why Lucius's voice had adopted a seductive purr as he ran a gloved finger down Draco's scarlet cheek. "You're good at making a fool of yourself, and you certainly are easy enough when Narcissa is out on business and I need my fill of…desire," those few words made Hermione want to vomit. Certainly Lucius didn't mean that he used Draco's body for…his own pleasures. But the way Draco shook with humiliation told a different story.

What had happened to the years of 'My father will hear about this'? The seemingly good relationship between father and son had been completely fabricated, carefully crafted with a fine needle to ensure that no one could pull apart the stitching and discover the truth. Everyone wanted to believe that there was nothing wrong, and no one wanted to believe that the Prince of Slytherin was hurting. Hermione yearned to be oblivious once again.

For once in her life, Hermione didn't want to learn any more. She didn't want to know of the horrors of the world, the evil that one person could hold over another. For once in her life, she didn't want to be the know-it-all; to witness _this_. It made so much horrifying sense, and for once in her life, she understood why Draco Malfoy was the person he was to that day.

Draco's face was flushing darker than he thought possible. He could feel heat spread down his face and neck and creep onto his chest_. There was no way this was happening, please no…_his breath quickened to an alarming pace as he heard several people mutter in disgust as his father mentioned his 'extra-curricular' activities he used Draco for with ease.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Lucius's voice slid like silk over every pair of ears. An uncomfortable tingling sensation travelled other Hermione's skin. From the proximity of Draco, she could see that he had shuddered too.

Draco's mouth opened and closed, looking more lost than anyone had ever seen him. It was a look Hermione knew she never wanted to see on his face again. "Answer me!" the angry man bellowed out, causing everyone in the room to flinch, but no one as bad as Draco did. A swift slap in the face fixed Draco's loss for words.

"I-I'm sorry!" he stuttered quickly, on the verge of losing all dignity. He could feel the eyes burning into his back. He just knew that they were going to use this against him. It was a thought he couldn't bear. His mind was going insane with everyone staring at him. His stomach plummeted to the ground when his father's face twisted in rage.

"Malfoy's are _never_ sorry," his father spat, delivering another slap followed by a powerful shove that sent him falling to the floor. Draco's palms made contact with the wooden floor with a sickening '_thwap'_. "Get up you worthless coward," Draco struggled to get up under the weight of the words. They were pressing him down, having a firm hold on his shoulders. "You are a pathetic-"

"Don't listen to him Drake! He's just being the same old bastard he's always been," Blaise Zabini called from the back of the room as he began pushing through the throng of students to make it to the front. The words didn't filter into Draco ears as he stared, terrified in front of his worst fear.

The boggart's eyes glittered dangerously as he began to swell in size. Hermione realized what was happening immediately. The more fear a boggart held over its victim, the stronger it became.

Draco was frozen, yet his heart was slamming against his rib cage. _This can't be happening, no one just saw that…_He tightened his fists as his side and tried a calming breath. _One. Two._ He was willing air into his lungs but it wouldn't come. His world was crashing down around him as he struggled to breathe_. No, not a panic attack right now, please not right now_. Draco was biting his lip so hard that he was drawing blood just to keep it. He desperately attempted to get his emotions under control; he had revealed enough already.

The second bell rang out, warning students to get to their class. The sound broke the silence like a spell. "Ridikulus!" Letterman finally stepped in, shock still evident on his face as he cried out the words. It sounded like a pitiful squeak in the air of such an imposing man. Even though it was only a boggart, Lucius Malfoy gave Letterman a look of distaste before he disappeared loudly into a pile of ashes.

No one moved. All eyes fixed on the blond boy as he stood before the class, unsure of what to do. His eyes flickered around the room as his face crumbled into misery. "I-I…." the look of pure despair on Draco's face broke the classes' hearts. Hermione's heart was aching to help, to reach out and put her hand on his shoulder, to tell him that it would be okay. But it wasn't. And what good would it be to lie?

"Draco…" Pansy began slowly.

He cut her off abruptly, with an amount of venom in his voice that no one had heard ever before. "No one say _anything_," retrieving his wand from the floor, he swiftly made his way out of the room, trying in vain to ignore the looks of pity upon each and every one of his classmates.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Letterman tried to say with authority, but they slide of Draco like tear drops. He didn't even break his stride as he vanished out the door.

"What do you reckon-" Ron began from beside Hermione, but he was cut off by Blaise Zabini elbowing him other painfully.

"Out of my way!" he said angrily as he chased after his best friend. Hermione was knocked roughly in the shoulder, and she stumbled into Ron as she tried to right herself.

"Mr. Zabini!" Letterman called out, but his words were useless. The door swung shut, leaving the teacher, the class, and the wardrobe completely still behind it.

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**Please review and tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I own Graham Bell and Andrew Bentley and other unrecognizable characters** Disclaimer: I don't own HP

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An Action is Worth a Thousand words 

It only took a matter of seconds before everything became chaos. The noise was giving her a headache. Pansy put her head in her hands, trying to erase the image of Draco standing before that _man_. His porcelain face, the picture of pure hopelessness, was burned under her eyelids. Her insides were scorched at the sight of one of her best friends being torn down again and again and again.

"Quiet down, please," Letterman ordered, a troubled look on his face. No one was listening, how could they? They had just witnessed a spirit snap in half, right before their eyes. "ENOUGH!"

The class obeyed, though it took many more threats of detention to cease all talking. Taking a deep breath, Letterman addressed the class, "I would appreciate, and I'm sure Mr. Malfoy would too, if no one mentioned the…events that just took place here today,"

Daphne Greengrass whimpered from beside her. Pansy turned to her friend sadly. "I had no idea…" the little blonde trailed off. Pansy clenched her teeth in anger, but not because of Daphne. It was because of everyone. Because of everything. How can the world not notice such a broken child trying desperately to live, right in front of their eyes? Every day he faced fear, embarrassment, shame, how could one sixteen year old boy bear that on his shoulders?

Why didn't they try to stop it? Call her a hypocrite, but Pansy knew she couldn't do anything to prevent the abuse. What good would the word of a sixteen year old girl stand for in court before one of the most powerful Wizarding families to ever walk the face of this earth? If Pansy were lucky, she could get Blaise to help alongside her. Two teenagers words alone? They would be laughed into mortification, and her own mother would scold her on perfection. Pansy shuddered, shaking away dark memories and turning to the situation at hand.

It was all too much. Her cold exterior was crashing down, being faced with cold, harsh reality. For the first time ever, Pansy Parkinson let out a sob.

It was a choked sound, it itched terribly in her throat as she wasn't used to it. Following shortly after came another cry, and another, until tears were streaming down her face. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn't someone else shoulder the weight of the world on their shoulders?

But even she, Pureblood extraordinaire, wasn't that cruel. She wouldn't wish a fate such as Draco's on anybody. No human should have to cope with that.

Daphne wrapped her arms around her in a sisterly hug, and Pansy was very aware of all the eyes staring at them. She almost found it in herself to laugh, ironically. The Slytherins were full of surprises for the Gryfifndors and Ravenclaws today.

"…Class dismissed," the teacher said uncertainly, and immediately entered his office, probably for something to soothe his head. Once the door was safely shut behind the professor, someone said in a dark mutter,

"I bet you Malfoy faked the entire thing for attention," Anger flared up inside Pansy like she had never experienced.

"How _dare_ you!" she shouted, her eyes murderous. The insolent Gryffindor's eyes widened in fright as Pansy bore down on him. "You conniving, evil little-"

"Don't, Pansy, he isn't worth it," Theo Nott grasped onto her arm to prevent her from castrating the Gryffindor. Hermione's eyes bore into the boy from her own house as well. She wasn't familiar with his name and didn't know who he was except for the few times she had passed him in the halls or common room.

"Who would do that to their own child?" Hermione asked in awe. Various looks of disgust and weariness were etched upon the student's faces. Though some Gryffindors were suspicious, the majority were shocked and saddened. The Ravenclaws could barely utter a word and the Slytherins…Hermione noticed that they didn't look very surprised. Was it possible that this sort of thing was common in the Pureblood community?

Ron spoke up from beside her. "I guess we know why he's such a git now," the class nodded in agreement.

"He's not such a git, you know. He just automatically puts his guard up in front of other people. But once you get to know him, he's really not bad…not at all," Theo said quietly. "I just wish that I knew about….well, you know. I wish I could help him,"

Jaws dropped all around. A Slytherin being compassionate; was hell freezing over?

Andrew Bentley, another sixth year Slytherin, "I don't know how I didn't notice it before. There were signs…I guess I was just too wrapped up in my own life to realize it,"

"I think we always knew that something was going on," Millicent Bulstrode said, and the rest of the students clad in green and black nodded sadly.

Anger filled up Hermione. "You mean you suspected it and you didn't say anything?!" she asked in a shrill voice, which caused Theo to cover his ears, and not very subtly.

"It wasn't like that!" Pansy rose to the defense of her friends. How dare she accuse them of not caring! "Whenever I tried to talk to him about it he said it was nothing and changed the subject,"

"And he always flinches whenever someone touches him, or comes too close to him," Goyle recalled. Harry raised an eyebrow; he didn't know Goyle could speak, let alone form a coherent sentence.

"And winces at loud noises," added Graham Bell.

"But how do we know that this isn't all just some joke?" Seamus Finnigan said obnoxiously. Everyone turned to him in bewilderment. "He doesn't have any scars, you'd think we'd have noticed if he did!"

Just as murmurs of agreement began to filter into the air, "Glamour charms," Daphne spat out the word. "They work _wonders_," silence ensued for a few more moments before Hermione shattered it.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked the question lingering on every tongue.

Dean Thomas said uncertainly, "Letterman has to tell Dumbledore, right?"

"For some reason I feel like that's not going to happen," Daphne cast a scowl at the closed door.

"I bet he's crying right now," Ron muttered amusedly to the Gryffindors. "This is gonna make an interesting story," Hermione gave him a sharp jab to the ribs at the comment, and Pansy looked at the girl with approval glittering in her eyes.

Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone? They could at least show a little respect and not go blabbing about Draco's family problems around the school. Sure, he had hurt them personally, but this was a different situation entirely. If they exposed his home life to the whole school…not only would he be humiliated beyond imagination, but his father would likely murder him, literally.

The door to the classroom swung open and a lone third year Hufflepuff stumbled in. Upon seeing the entire sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts, she tripped on her own feet. The somber class hardly paid the girl any mind as they began filing out the door to continue on with the day.

Before they left, Pansy made eye contact with each and every one of them. "_Not a word, anyone_," Pansy growled so threateningly that no one dared speak for fear of their lives.

Breathing out a sigh, Pansy pinched her nose as she followed suit of the class. She was worried sick for her friend. As she stepped into the hallway, Pansy was left wondering how she was going to continue on with her day as obliviously as she had before.

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**Aww, poor Draco ): We will get a glimpse at him the next chapter.**

**But for now, will the class stay true to their word and keep Draco's secret, or will they reveal it to the rest of the school?**

**A big thanks to everyone who reviewd/alerted/favorite this story!**

**Review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

His mind was in a torrent of emotions, it was amazing that Draco could even run straight. _No, this couldn't be happening_. Everything that he had feared; his worst nightmares, discovery; was being experienced all at once. Draco couldn't handle it. His world was crashing down around him. Tears were blinding his vision. He rounded a corner and burst through the first door he came to, the second floor girl's bathroom.

Draco just only managed to make it to the sink. He grasped it, his knuckles turning alabaster white and threatening to break through his delicate skin.

Sob racked through his already shaking body. _No, no, no, no, no! Everyone knew!_ After so many years of going to meticulous precautions to protect it, his secret was revealed in a matter of seconds. His father would really kill him this time. Pure dread travelled through Draco at the thought, and he clutched the sink tighter.

Trying in vain to gulp in breath, he turned his tear stained face up to the mirror. Draco couldn't believe that it was himself he was seeing in the reflective glass. The false façade of the strong, arrogant, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. It had disappeared the moment the boggart stepped out of the wardrobe.

The boggart, Draco shuddered. What if his father found out that his true and pure fear was him? The torture that would follow would be unbearable. Draco could see the characteristic sneer on his father's face already. It was the same sneer he always wore as he beat Draco to the ground, then when he was too weak to fight back, he would finally undo Draco's belt and tug down his pants agonizingly slow-

Oxygen refused to enter his lungs. _Not now, no_! He couldn't have a panic attack right now! The familiar feeling of drowning with his hands bond behind him filled his being. His lungs closed off, and the tears that continued endlessly down his pale cheeks seemed to choke him. Draco's chest ached with every breath he took, and his throat was raw.

He took one of his hands off the sink and dug his nails into the flesh of his arm. They bit at his skin, and the pain slowly brought him back to reality. Draco shuddered, successfully getting in a small breath and willing himself to regain control.

He had already revealed too much, he couldn't risk anything more. He met his eyes in the mirror and stared into them. A haunted child stared back at him, tormented with the horrors no person his age should experience. His grip loosened on the sink as Draco wrapped his arms around himself in a hug. It was an action he had taken to doing at a young age. Starved of any form of affection since he was a baby, Draco had always tried to comfort himself. Though it was far from a warm embrace, it was better to feel his own, cold arms wrapped around him than the bitter air biting at his skin.

More tears dribbled down his face. Draco desperately wanted something, someone, to hold. He yearned for his mother's love, which he would never receive. He was aching for his father's approval. Even a pat on the back, or an "I'm proud of you" would have helped ease the pain of feeling so alone.

Draco felt cold, his lips trembled as he hugged himself tighter and closed his eyes. His body was going numb. What was he going to do? Could he really just shrug it off like it was nothing after the reaction everyone had witnessed? Biting his lip, Draco shook his head. No one would believe that. They weren't stupid.

Then how come no one had noticed until now?

There had always been the underlying hope, the fleeting thought of someone discovering his secret. The thought of being saved, of being held, of being loved…But then the cold reality that would have come with the discovery had always hit him like a ton of bricks. His father would be so angry with him. Anytime someone had even an ounce of realization, Lucius punished him severely.

Shuddering, he lifted his silver eyes up to the mirror once more. His reflection scared himself, seeing him look so weak, but what frightened him even more was that another face had appeared in the mirror beside him. Draco whipped around and found himself gazing into the eyes of Blaise Zabini.

Neither said any for a little while. Blaise stared at the broken face of his best friend. He could see that this was starting to tax his severely. Tears, which were so foreign to the young Malfoy's face, left red tracks in their wake. They stood out brightly on his pale face. Blaise regarded him sadly. Draco's hands were trembling at his sides, and each breath that he took was shaky. He didn't know how Draco was managing to get enough oxygen.

"Hey," Blaise said softly. Draco stared at him for a moment longer before collapsing into the Italian's arms. The hug took Blaise by surprise. It was so uncharacteristic of the both of them that Blaise could only wrap his arms around his friend as he sobbed into his shoulder.

"E-everyone-" Draco stuttered, but Blaise hushed him.

"It's going to be okay," Blaise promised, and the other boy pulled back suddenly. Draco looked at Blaise for a long time, a strange look on his face that Blaise couldn't understand. In truth it was frightening him.

Draco finally spoke in a raspy whisper. "How can you say that?"

Blaise's heart broke in two for third time that day. How could he say that? Who was he to assure that Draco was going to be okay, that no one would tell anyone about his secret, that his father wouldn't hear about it, and that everything would _just stop?_

No, it wasn't going to be okay. Nothing was.

Blaise regarded his best friend in silence. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked hopefully. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Since when do we _talk_?"

The corners of Blaise's lips turned up slightly. There was still the old Draco in their somewhere, despite all the grief he had rested on his shoulders. Blaise snorted, deciding it best to fall back into their old routine.

"Good point, I sounded like a girl there for a moment,"

"You didn't sound just like any girl. You sounded like _Pansy_,"

Blaise's face contorted into mock horror. "Pansy?! Oh no!"

A small grin flitted across Draco's features before he turned away. His body had relented in his tremors and his breath was no back in his body, yet he was far from okay. The friendly banter with Blaise had only taken his mind off the current situation briefly. And now it was back, invading his mind and sending him into a petrified state.

Draco rested his forehead against the cool glass and let his palms balance him on the windowsill. "What am I going to do?" his lips spoke the words that were plaguing his mind without his consent.

Blaise came up beside his best mate. "We'll figure something out."

He could only pray that they would.

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**Review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP**


	5. Chapter 5

** Disclaimer: I don't own HP**

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Her throat felt like it was closing off. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe as the bell rung on the wall. "_Not a word, anyone_," she distantly heard Pansy Parkinson growl. Harry and Ron tensed at her side, presumably from the venom in the Slytherin's voice. Hermione put a hand on both on them, knowing the Pansy really didn't mean any harm; she was protecting her friend.

_Draco_. Oh gods, _Draco_. The boy that had bullied her and her friends endlessly for years; he had hurt her so badly, with hurtful names and disgusted sneers. Yet it was all a façade, a cold mask that he was suffocating under as he strained to carry the weight of his secret on his bruised shoulders.

The rest of the class began filing out of the classroom, knowing today could never be the same again. Or any day. Ron made a move to go with the rest of the class, but Harry remained frozen at Hermione's side. His green gaze was locked on a point in space somewhere ahead of him, an unusual look stretched across his thin face. "Harry, Hermione?" Ron questioned wearily.

"I had no idea," Harry choked out. He felt awful; he never knew that what he teased his enemy about always hit so close to home. Ron frowned.

"Well, yeah, he did a good job protecting it. Now let's go, we have to get to class,"

Harry and Hermione whipped around and stared at him. "How can you be so…unaffected?" Hermione said in a shrill voice. The red heads eyes widened, and he turned to Harry for help, who shook his head.

"It's not my problem! Malfoy's fine, honestly, he's survived sixteen years, I think he can survive the rest of today," Ron's ears turned pink. It wasn't that he didn't care, he just didn't know how to. Malfoy was someone who had insulted him, his family, his money, lifestyle, friends, and everything Ron lived for. How could he be so compassionate towards him once one 'secret' was divulged?

To say he was surprised when Hermione drew back her hand and slapped him straight across the face was an understatement. Ron stumbled backward, hand clutching his red cheek. "What the ruddy hell was that for?" he cried out. Harry snapped out of his daze.

"Look, both of you!" he raised his voice. Caught in surprise, Hermione and Ron gave him their full attention. Harry didn't raise his voice often, and never with them. "Ron, how would you feel if a secret like that was exposed in front of everyone? Humiliated, to say the least? I think Draco's experiencing a lot more emotions than embarrassment," he huffed, then turned on Hermione. "And you. I understand that it's a lot to take in, hell, I'm upset by this. But you can't get mad at other people for not seeing things the way you do. There is bound to be an underlying feeling of doubt, regardless of the situation. It's not being heartless, or unaffected, it's being cautious in the state of confusion," Harry turned back to Ron, who was stunned silent. "I know it's hard to feel sympathy for someone who has only taken actions against you in the past. I understand where you're coming from, really. I'm not saying that things are different now, and that we should forgive him for everything. But that we should be more understanding, we know more about him as a person, his motivations the environment he grew up in, and we should not only recognize that, but we should reach out to help him,"

Hermione and Ron were flabbergasted. Harry could see the cogs and wheels turning in Hermione's mind as she tried to comprehend what he was saying and create a counter fact, but she couldn't. Ron seemed to be having a revelation before his eyes.

"You're right," Hermione choked. She brushed a piece of hair from her eyes, "You guys go on ahead, okay? I'll be there soon," Harry felt a pang in his stomach. He hadn't meant to make her feel terrible, just make her understand.

"Are you sure? We can wait here for you," he began, but Hermione shook her head.

"I'll be fine, I just need a moment," she took a step back. "I'll see you guys at lunch," nodding reluctantly, the two boys slowly walked out of the room. It was only the lone girl standing in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom now.

Her brown eyes skated over the innocent mahogany wardrobe standing in the center of the room. Then over to the Professor's office, whose door remained shut. The coward, Hermione thought viciously. Why hadn't he reached out to help? He could have said something, stopped the boggart. Couldn't Letterman see that Malfoy was in tears? That he was in humiliation? In pain, even? Something was off.

Shaking her head, Hermione was about to leave when her eyes fell onto a discarded book bag. Curiosity got the best of her as she slunk over to it, pulling out a book to see the name written inside. The unmistakable elegant script of Draco Malfoy was printed on the inside. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. He had left his book bag when he ran out of the room. Clutching the book to her chest, Hermione considered her options. She could leave them here, certainly Zabini or Parkinson would come back and get them if Draco didn't himself. What did she care for the git, anyways? Or she could hunt him down herself. That idea was less appealing. She didn't fancy facing Malfoy right now, what would she even say? Hermione was quite the expert in awkward social situations; she always managed to make them worse. No, she couldn't deal with the blonde, especially in his current state.

But he did need his things. And she didn't want to leave it all in the classroom where a student could steal his homework and use it as their own. Maybe Hermione could find Zabini and give it to him? Parkinson was also an option but she didn't want to talk to her either. Yes, she would search for Blaise Zabini.

Nodding in satisfaction, Hermione picked up Draco's bag and hefted it onto her shoulder, stumbling a bit under the weight of two bags. Casting a final disproving glance at the office door, the brunette scurried out of the class room.

The corridor had mostly cleared out. For once in her life, Hermione didn't mind that she was missing class. She began her trek down the deserted hallway, only realizing half way down it that she had no idea where the Italian Slytherin would be. Defeat crushed her chest and Hermione leaned against the cold walls of the ancient castle. She didn't know how long she stayed like that. Soon, the distinct sound of voices filled her ears. It was distant, far off, faint, but definitely there. Ears perking up curiously, Hermione's eyes slid open, and she lifted herself up from her defeated pose.

Perhaps it was fate that Blaise Zabini appeared at the end of the corridor.

As he neared closer and closer, a new panic hit Hermione. What would she say to him? Merely shove the books into his hand then flee? Or ask about the situation with his friend? Her mind far from made up, she blurted out when Blaise was within earshot. "Who were you talking to?" Hermione asked, frowning. Now close enough to see the expressions on his face, the boy scrutinized her.

"Nobody," he replied shortly, giving her a bored look.

Hermione regarded him questioningly. "What were you doing in the girl's bathroom?" it was true. She had just watched him exit the girls lavatory at the end of the corridor.

"You ask a lot of questions," he avoided cleverly.

"Well maybe if you answered them-"

"Merlin, what do you think I was doing? I was taking a whizz," Blaise's tone was revealing a hint of exasperation.

"In the _girl's_ bathroom?" it was less than a question than it was an accusation. Hermione put her hands on her hips, knowing that her stance and tone was very much related to Molly Weasley.

"A guy has gotta do what a guy has gotta do," Blaise shrugged, attempting to shoulder past her. She side stepped him, blocking him from escape.

"Actually, I was looking for you,"

"Oh that's just brilliant," he sneered at her. Hermione glared at the Slytherin and threw her hands skywards in frustration.

"You can at least attempt to be civil, Zabini, we've all been through a lot today,"

That sobered him up real quick. She literally watched as he paused and regarded her differently, eyes roaming her face as if searching for the answer to some unasked question. Rubbing a hand down his face, Blaise let out a sigh. "What did you need?" he asked tiredly.

Hermione wiggled her shoulder a bit so that book bag slipped off of it. "I have Malfoy's things. I figured he'd need them later," Blaise gave her an odd look, but extended his hand. Hermione placed the strap in it, and in one fluid motion he swung it over his shoulder.

He walked away without another word. He left her wondering what it was exactly that she saw in his eyes. He left her wanting to say more; about Draco, about him, she didn't know. He left her alone in the corridor, wondering how she had gotten that lucky to have stumbled upon him.

Perhaps it was fate.

* * *

**Terribly sorry for the wait. I had written the chapter then realized I wanted something else before it, so the chapter that was going to be this one is now going to be chapter 6…make sense? So I basically was trying to find the inspiration…anywho, I hope you enjoyed! **

**Review! **


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own HP

**A/N: PLEASE READ THE IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER! **

* * *

Harry stabbed at his food half-heartedly. If he were being honest with himself, he had spent his entire dinner time merely pushing his food around his plate. None of it seemed appetizing, and if it did, he doubted it would stay down. For the umpteenth time his green eyes flickered up to the Slytherin table, the boy he wanted to see sitting there absent.

He yearned for everything to be back to normal. But when he thought of it, did he know what normal was? Was this Draco Malfoy's normal? It was strange, that after so many years of 'knowing' the boy, Harry found that he truly didn't know him. Sure, he had acknowledged his existence, exchanged insults and hurtful words, but never had they looked into the other's personal life.

Harry supposed this was why.

He found that he didn't want to know anything more.

Yet, his scattered brain was patching pieces together, knitting and weaving through memories that could have hinted him the truth behind Draco's home life. It was an endless web.

In the constant quarrels between him and Malfoy, Harry had failed to notice until now how his enemy automatically backed up whenever Harry advanced him in an argument. There was the memory at the Quidditch World Cup back in fourth year. He remembered when Lucius had hit Draco in the chest with his serpentine cane, it looked like it had truly hurt the younger blonde; Draco hadn't been able to brush it off as easily.

Harry rubbed his hands over his pale face. No, he couldn't forgive and forget so easily everything that Draco Malfoy had done to him. In fact, he should still hate him, be livid towards the years of antagonizing him. But he found that he couldn't.

Throughout the entire Great Hall, Harry could pinpoint the individuals who had been in DADA today just by their body language: slightly slumped shoulders, grim expression, no appetite, strange silence, and an air of confusion. Beside him, Harry could see Ron's brain moving. A miraculous feat, yes, and often a dangerous one. He knew that Ron was trying to understand. However, Ron couldn't even begin to imagine what life would be like without the love and nurturing of a family. Perhaps that's what made Harry understand Draco more. Whereas Ron had grown up in love, Harry had been forced into his Uncle and Aunts unwilling, meaty fingertips. There had been no love exchanged, but Harry didn't mind. He knew that he had people that loved him now. Besides, he was never poorly treated. But Draco had grown up in an entirely different environment. An environment that only a few could even attempt to understand.

A grumbling sound in his ear snatched the boy from his thoughts. He turned to the red-head, who had managed to eat half a chicken wing, and felt an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach as Harry noticed the expression contorting Hermione's face at whatever comment it was Ron had made.

"For attention? You think this whole, bloody thing is for attention, Ronald?" Hermione's shrill voice cut through the air like a knife. Harry winced, at the sound of her voice and at the thought of what Ron must have said.

Those around them turned heads to catch a glimpse at the argument simmering between the friends. Ron's eyes flickered around, sending a quick glare at the eyes that lingered. "I just think it's odd, alright? S'perfect timing, Malfoy could already be a death eater, and he's trying to get us all to lower our guards so that he can strike,"

He was treading in dangerous territory now. Ron watched as his friend's eyes almost burned him. Hermione was known for being passionate about things, but over Malfoy? He didn't deserve passion. It was difficult to understand the situation, for Ron. He wasn't sure if he believed all of this, but he did want to take what Harry said into consideration. He was stuck in an unhappy middle territory, between speculation and accusation.

"It was his boggart, Ronald! You can't fake a fear! You can't fake…" Hermione's voice cracked and her eyes fogged with the memory of their classmate standing helpless before his worst fear.

Ron swallowed uncertainly before giving Harry and Hermione a nod. He needed to think. He stood, his face portraying a stronger man that was unaffected, and walked out of the Great Hall.

Hermione felt a hand on hers, probably Harry's, comforting her, reassuring her.

"It's going to be okay,"

"Is it?"

Her friend nodded confidently. "We're going to make it okay. Merlin help me I never thought I'd see the day, but we're going to help Draco Malfoy," the words themselves could have made Hermione laugh at the pure bizarreness of them.

"It's a crazy idea,"

"We're Gryffindors, it's what we do," the boy shrugged, his voice surprisingly light for the situation.

"I think….I think I want to try and talk to him," Hermione began, staring up at him, looking for encouragement. She was referring to Draco, of course. Somehow, the idea of talking to him seemed easier than confronting Ron at the moment.

"I think that's a good idea." Harry squeezed her hand, and Hermione smiled back at him and his constant reassurance.

* * *

"Blaise?"

"Yes?"

"What are we going to do?"

The question wavered between them. Blaise put down his fork, keeping his voice low as he continued to stare at his untouched food.

"Nothing,"

"What?"

"Nothing,"

The suggestion was barbaric.

"That's cruel," Pansy whispered, hands wringing on her lap, eyes flickering around to make sure the words exchanged between the two friends were for no ears but their own.

"It's what has to be done,"

It was ironic.

"But why?"

"We're in no position to do anything. We can help Draco through his emotions, sure, but to take action? What do two teens hold up in court against the Lord of the Malfoy estate?"

It was the truth. The quiet conversation fell out between the two friends, and it was never to be spoken of again.

* * *

**PLEASE READ!**

**A/N: I've been extremely hesitant about this…in the next chapter, we'll go back to Draco's point of view, and there is going to be a memory (one relating to the abuse). I already have it written, but now I'm worried it's too much. It is a glimpse of the sexual abuse Draco endured, and I'm really worried about what you readers will think. If you have any thoughts on this please let me know!**

**Keep in mind that I will not be posting the next chapter until I get a considerable amount of input on this little dilemma I'm having. It's for your own sakes. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**WARNING**: **This chapter contains graphic sexual abuse,****if you can't handle it, please don't read it! **

**Flashback is in italics, again, please **_**please**_** don't read if you don't think you can handle it**

* * *

Despite the growling in his stomach, Draco couldn't bring himself to go to dinner. The thought of everyone that had seen his boggart staring at him, their pitying looks and half-smiles as they attempted to understand what they never would be able to; it made Draco want to be sick, physically and mentally. Draco had never been one to want other people's sympathy. You got what you got in life, and you had to take and bear it, even if some people had it harder than others.

He had decided to reside in his dormitory for the rest of the day. Blaise and Theo would certainly find him later, but for the remainder of the day he didn't want their questioning. Not that the talk with Blaise didn't help, it was nice to know that there was someone out there who cared, but Draco didn't think he could face anymore prodding questions about his troublesome home life.

Draco flipped himself over onto his stomach, burying his head in his pillow. The plush object sunk around him, to Draco's satisfaction. He wanted to be blocked from the rest of the world, if only temporarily.

The cool air of the dorm nipped at his skin continually, and groaning, Draco sat up. He had avoided watching the time all day, wanting to feel like he wasn't really here, if that made sense. It made sense to Draco at least.

The clock beside Theo's bed read that it was about a quarter of the way through dinner time. He still had some time to himself before his roommates returned. Sighing, Draco resolved that he should try and get some sleep. Previously he had caught a glimpse of his horrific reflection when passing through the dormitory, and had vowed that he wouldn't look at himself again that night. Dark circles stood out blatantly on his pale skin, which looked too fragile covering his body's frame. His cheeks were a bit flushed, his eyes a hue of red from all of his crying. However, Draco hadn't thought about getting sleep. He detested sleeping, as a matter of fact. Whenever Draco tried to get a good nights' sleep, nightmares plagued his mind. In an attempt to avoid nightmares at all costs, Draco had forced himself to stay awake as he lay in the dormitory for hours.

His bruised body was yelling at him otherwise. Draco was fighting to keep his eyelids open as they drooped lower and lower. He didn't want to give in, but he knew that he was fighting a losing battle. The pillow was getting softer, and sheets underneath him getting warmer and more inviting, and it seemed fashionable to get some rest. Reluctantly, his mind went blank as sleep overcame him and he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

_Flashback-WARNING_

_It couldn't have been past two in the morning when Draco's uneasy sleep was disrupted by the sudden added weight at the foot of his bed. Forcing his breathing to remain normal, he squeezed his eyes tighter, hoping to feign sleep. If only for one more moment, one more minute of peace before his father started his sick games._

_Whenever the blonde felt the added weight to his bed, he knew that his father had arrived. The mere presence of his father frightened Draco; it was enough to make him physically sick. Even being in the same house as him scared Draco. _

_The silhouette shifted as it crept closer. Fear pounded through Draco's veins and he felt like he had been dunked in a vat of freezing cold water. He could feel the eyes that he had inherited resting on him. Lucius knew he was awake. Softly, but in a commanding tone, the first words were spoken. "Wake up,"_

_Dare not to defy him, Draco's aching body pushed itself up slowly. The silk sheets tumbled off his chest, and Draco thanked the high heavens that he had opted to wear a shirt to bed tonight instead of his usual boxers._

_Although he tried not to show it, Draco was afraid. He always was. Whether or not his father was aware of the fact went past Draco. Terror penetrated him as Lucius crawled up further into the bed. Draco didn't speak. He leaned back and pressed himself as far away as possible, already wanting what hadn't even started to be over. _

_Lucius settled himself down atop the boy's hips, and the pressure made Draco groan. The sadistic smile crept onto the man's face at this reaction as Draco mentally abused his body. Unable to watch the whites of the grin flash in the moonlight, Draco's eyes slipped closed and he pressed his cheek into the cool material of the pillow. It was unbearable to observe as his father 'worked' above him. A shudder went through his body at what was to come. It was abhorrent. Anxiety caused his fingers to shake as he waited for the hands to reach for him. _

_When the hands did touch him, they began with feather light touches. Draco bit his lip to suppress a moan. His father seemed to like that. He took his time in touching him. Slowly, the shirt was pulled up, revealing Draco's abdomen. The blonde boy's breath caught as it was pulled over his head. For a terrifying moment, he thought that Lucius would leave it there so that Draco couldn't see. But it was pulled over his head, not at all carefully, and tossed onto the floor. Draco's bare chest was now exposed to this savage beast. He wanted to scream, to push him off, anything…but he couldn't._

_The long blonde hair, usually tied back in a ribbon, now fell loosely over Lucius' shoulders. As he leaned over Draco, it tickled his chest. Sometimes it would become a curtain, making Draco unable to see what his father was going to do next. This always made him nervous. Being unable to see your predator in such a terrifying situation made it all the more painful._

_The cold fingers danced around his lower region. Every now and then a single finger would flick out and touch the 'prize', being rewarded with a sharp jolt from Draco, in his heart and in that particular body part. No matter how much he fought it, Draco's body always betrayed him. With the unfriendly combination of his father rocking his hips slowly over his groin, and the hands caressing his sides, Draco's body was always caught in the state he desperately tried to avoid: aroused. Draco desperately wanted to scream at him to stop, but he kept his mouth clamped shut. _

_His father leaned down, and Draco automatically turned his face away. Alcohol was evident in the older man's breath, and the stench made Draco's stomach churn. Disappointment, or what Draco imagined it to be as he couldn't see as well in the darkness, overtook his father's drunken face. Nonetheless, he still put his lips to his son's ear and whispered, "You don't have to pretend, Draco," the voice was husky and full of sexual promises. The other shook in fear. "I know you love this,"_

_Love. The word sent unpleasant tingles down Draco's spine. He didn't love this. He despised it with every fiber of his battered body. But why did he react in a way that spoke differently? _

_Frowning at his lack of response, Lucius' hands left Draco. For a confusing moment, Draco had the wishful but foolish thought that he was leaving. But he quickly corrected himself as his father gripped the silk sheets and yanked them off of Draco's body in one swift movement. Now feeling very exposed with only his boxers and goosebumps to conceal him, a lump formed in the back of his throat as his father took on a less sensual manner. _

_He could only moan through the rest of the torturous night. _

* * *

"Draco! Draco, please wake up!" a voice washed over him, and Draco jolted awake. Oxygen surged into his lungs as Draco gulped in air. He could barely see because his vision was blurry. The blonde was quickly swept back into reality as a voice called out again.

The first thing Draco noticed was that his body was covered in sweat, his back was soaking wet. As his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, Draco took in Theo standing worryingly over him, eyes wide with a combination of fear and confusion. He also noticed the unpleasantly tight feeling in his pants.

"Oh god," Draco bolted upright, shoving his concerned friend out of the way as he dashed to the bathroom. Once the door was safely closed behind him, Draco assessed the situation. Trying to shake the terror of the memory, Draco looked down at the tenting in his pants clearly showing his engorged member.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Draco reached out to steady himself on the sink. Unable to refrain looking at his reflection any longer, he glanced up at the mirror. A rush of embarrassment swept over Draco as he took in his appearance. His cheeks were flushed dark red, probably because of his arousal. A haunted look was present in his wide eyes. He hadn't even noticed that he had been crying.

Draco sat himself down on the toilet and put his head in his hands. They slipped over his sweaty forehead as Draco began to scold himself. He should have known better than to think that he would achieve a dreamless sleep. He was always doing everything wrong. His father was right, he was a screw up. That was why his father hit him, hurt him, touched him…just like in the dream. Draco could feel the cold hands sliding over his body, leaving a burning trail in their wake. Then the fingers would reach _there_ and his father would give a merciless laugh as he…

Bile filed his mouth and Draco barely had enough time to turn around before he vomited in the toilet. He spluttered once his empty stomach had finished heaving, a nasty acidic feeling burning his throat and tongue. Sitting back on his heels, Draco rested his head on the cool glass of the tub in an attempt to regain his breath.

A tentative knock on the door brought him back to reality. "Draco?" Theo's anxious voice came from the other side of the door. "Draco, are you alright?"

The snap back-to made Draco want to be sick again. His eyes widened in mortification and he let out a frustrated cry. He had forgotten about Theo just outside of the door, who had seen and heard everything. A heaving sensation filled his stomach again. Theo had seen _everything_. He slammed his head against the tub. Not only had he been aroused by that terrible memory, but in front of his friend as well. Draco wanted to melt into a puddle of humiliation. He could only hope that he hadn't said anything during the dream for Theo to hear.

Uncertainly, the door opened and Theo's head appeared. "Draco…" he said again. The boy's eyes widened as he took in the situation. Draco didn't have the heart to tell him to bugger off. "I, er, would you like some water?"

Almost snorting at the doubtful undertone in Theo's voice, Draco shook his head resolutely. "I'm fine," Draco said, surprised that his voice sounded so strong. Theo practically flinched.

"A-are you sure? It looked like you were having a pretty bad nightmare…I wasn't sure if I was supposed to wake you or not, but you were crying a-and…moaning," Theo's face colored slightly. A hint of dread flickered in Draco's mind. He hadn't…moaned anything to do with the dream, had he?

Draco didn't want to, but he knew he had to ask. "What did I say?" he asked. He would keep his cool no matter what the answer was.

Theo's eyes widened even further, if that were possible. "Nothing," he said quickly. Draco's eyes narrowed. "Er, it was something along the lines of 'please…please stop' and you kept on saying 'no'…um, Draco, if you don't mind me asking, what were you dreaming about?"

Despite Draco's strong will, his face burned scarlet. So he _had_ been crying out in response to the memory. Sensing that Draco was extremely uncomfortable, Theo backed down. "Right, sorry, I shouldn't have asked,"

Draco glared at the wall, mentally abusing himself some more. Why did he have to be so stupid?

"I'll leave you to it then," Theo said, although he was obviously waiting for some form of response on Draco's part. When he got none, Theo slipped out as quietly as he had come.

Groaning, Draco picked himself up off the floor. Just because he was a pathetic mess didn't mean he had to show everyone that side of him. After washing his mouth out with water and splashing his face a few times, Draco opened the bathroom door. He spotted Theo right away sitting on his bed, waiting uncertainly. The boy's brown eyes flitted up to meet Draco's grey ones when he came out. Draco stood there awkwardly. He was never one for casual social situations, much less intense one's such as this. It was best to avoid it.

"I'm going to bed," Draco stated, tearing his gaze away. Pulling off his shirt, he realized too late that he wasn't alone, and that his bruised body was very exposed to Theo, who was very aware of it. Draco's cheeks flushed again as he felt Theo's eyes burning into him. He quickly pulled on a shirt and pants and carefully eased into bed, as to avoid bumping any aching limb.

"Night, Drake," Theo's response finally came. He climbed into bed as well, all the while his eyes resting on Draco who squirmed in discomfort. The light switch was flipped off and the room filled with darkness. It only occurred to Draco that Blaise hadn't returned yet when he noticed the absence of snoring. He almost laughed, until he heard a quiet voice speak.

"You were dreaming about your father, weren't you?" all momentary happiness was torn from Draco. He shuffled in his bed, turning his head to try and make out the outline of Theo in his bed. Theo was on his back and staring at the ceiling, refusing to turn his gaze to where he knew Draco was staring at him.

"What makes you say that?" a dangerous tone crept into Draco's voice.

Theo seemed to sense this. "Well, just with today and all…" he trailed off uncertainly, not wanting to get on this topic.

Draco hissed. "What about today?"

An uncomfortable silence followed. "You know, your boggart…does your father …_touch_ you?" Theo really didn't want to get into this. He knew that Draco needed space, but he also knew that he couldn't let the subject rest.

"So what if he does?" Draco felt his guard going up. What was Theo doing? Did he honestly think that trying to talk with Draco about this was going to go well? He had thought that Theo respected his need for privacy. Apparently that wasn't the case.

"That's _so_ _wrong_,"

Those words made Draco flinch. He didn't say anything. A heavy weight had settled on his chest. Draco swallowed unnecessarily, shifting in his bed again.

"You shouldn't let him do that," the other boy said again.

Draco snapped to his defense. "Do you think I like it?!" he said venomously.

Theo knew that he was treading on thin ice. "I don't know! I'm just saying…" he mentally slapped himself. What was he saying? Was he really saying this to Draco when it was obviously a sensitive subject? Knowing Draco, he wouldn't let this sort of thing slide.

"What do you mean you don't know if I like it?" Theo could hear the slight crack in Draco's voice. Theo really was hurting him and he knew that the next words that slipped out of his mouth were a huge mistake.

"You were turned on by it! The way you were moaning, I wasn't sure if you actually liked that kind of thing or not," Theo barely took a breath to allow Draco to intervene. "I mean, I hope not, what kind of person gets off from their own dad stroking him? It's _disgusting_,"

Draco choked and he didn't say anything. He couldn't. The truth of Theo's words came crashing down around him. Oh Merlin, he really was disgusting, wasn't he? The fact that he got hard from his father doing _that_ to him was enough to scare Draco, but when other people noticed this fact and pointed it out? It was unbearable.

The darkness surrounding them was almost as suffocating as the silence. "Hey, Drake? I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean that I'm a disgusting freak?" Draco spat, but his voice was too thick to inflict damage. Theo's heart ached. He hadn't meant that, it just slipped out in the wrong way…

Silence rang out like a gun shot. "Draco…" Theo tried desperately.

"Fuck off," Draco spat out. He only partially regretted the words once they left his mouth.

Theo didn't say anything after that. He left Draco to mull over his words and drown in misery.

Draco nervously pulled at his finger nails. He didn't want to go back to sleep. What if another episode happened? And what if it was one of the even worse memories? But too soon he found himself yawning and giving in to his tired body. Draco allowed his exhausted mind some rest.

Only when he was almost asleep did Theo speak. Draco wasn't even sure if he were really talking or if he were just imagining it. The latter wouldn't surprise him. "I'm sorry, Dray, I'm just worried about you. You're one of my only friends. I don't know what I'd do if I lose you because you're hurting and there is nothing I can do to help…" he trailed off. It was quiet for a bit before he spoke again. "I'm just trying to figure this out. I'm sure you are too…I just want to let you know I don't think you're disgusting. Or a freak. You can't help what's happened to you in the past. So many bad things have happened to you, but it doesn't mean you're a bad person…I'm here for you, and so is everyone else, when you need us. That's one thing you'll never lose,"

Theo's surprisingly soft words put the smallest of smiles on Draco's lips. Even if Draco were only dreaming it, it sent a warm feeling in his chest. The feeling of being cared for.

"Goodnight, Draco," the last words were whispered, and Draco fell into a dreamless sleep for the first time in months.


End file.
